Interpretations of Love
by UnknownWriterPerson
Summary: A collection of oneshots that surround the beauty and love of Cyrus Goodman and Jonah Beck.
1. Zealous

_Z: Zealous_

—having or showing zeal (great energy or enthusiasm in pursuit of a cause).

...

The water lies sleek on the sidewalk, darkening the sun-bleached grey to a glossy black. The rain had painted every surface it could reach, drizzling down in a somewhat rhythmic pattern. It was quite beautiful to Cyrus, how it softly danced against the window and emitted a cool atmosphere around them. The weather was soothing and he basked in its wonder.

 _The Spoon_ had erupted with its typical loquacious chatter, filling his and Buffy's ears as they dipped their baby taters into the quaint cups of their milkshakes. They had been rambling on about the struggles of school, new gossip that spread about the city, and who really should have ended up with Lucas on "Girl Meets World." They talked about the most random stuff together, but it was nonetheless fun being in each other's company.

Earlier, it had been the two of them along with Andi, prompting to meet up at their favorite place after school. It had been going well until Jonah intervened the bubbling conversation, asking if Andi wanted to talk. Of course, being the supportive friends they were, Buffy and Cyrus allowed her to go off with him to another table, leaving the two alone to the thoughts that consumed them.

Cyrus frequently glanced over at them, merely noticing the boy he was enamored of, the way his emerald eyes were always lit with such a familiar ecstasy, or how his distinctive smile and _adorable_ dimples made Cyrus' heart palpitate, or how his laugh was the most _mesmerizing_ lullaby Cyrus has ever heard and only ever wants to hear.

After a sixth glance, Buffy started to notice.

"Cyrus, why do you keep looking over at them? Is something wrong?" He only shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the pair that sat on the other side of the restaurant. The more he focused on them, the further his heart sank. He coveted the way Jonah looked at Andi as if she hung up the stars, and wished he was in her position. But, he couldn't get his hopes up, because _of course_ he would never have the happily ever after he wanted.

So, he made it a point—a _promise_ to himself that he would risk everything for the sake of Jonah's happiness, even if it costed his own. He would give Jonah the whole world just to see his _beautiful_ smile that outshined a whole galaxy of stars, even if it meant that Cyrus would drown in the pool of his own tears.

He didn't deserve Jonah, and he would never be given the chance anyway because Jonah was a beautiful, popular, charming _straight_ guy who wouldn't be caught dead with Cyrus, a sad, ugly, little _gay_ dork.

* * *

 **A/N:** **It was absolutely NEEDED that I write a Jyrus fanfic because the first time I saw those two precious cinnamon rolls together, I saw all the potential and I kept on gushing over them since. This story is going to be updated every day, which is, I'm sure, the only time I've ever prompted for a story to be updated daily, so let's see what happens with that. These chapters are going to be short, but that's really the whole gist, I guess.** **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**


	2. Yearning

_Y: Yearning_

—having an intense feeling of longing for something.

...

Jonah loved Cyrus' smile.

The distinct feature of his brought euphoria to all their peers, his bright, striking eyes only complimenting the joy that was etched from end to end on his face. His smile had some sort of hold on Jonah, making him succumb to the beauty that it threw to him.

But, today, there was something hidden behind his visage of cheerfulness.

Cyrus no longer had his trademark grin that lit up a room. There was no lingering spark in his coffee-colored eyes, nor a single trace of bliss that filled his demeanor, and that worried Jonah. He hated seeing this new, depressing look that the boy adorned. So, he thinks that it may be the reason he was standing on Cyrus' porch at five thirty in the afternoon, his hand mid-air, hesitating to knock. Finally, his knuckles met with the door and in a few seconds he was greeted by a saddeningly familiar, forlorn face.

"Oh, J-Jonah! Hi. Um, wh-what are you doing here?" Cyrus stuttered with his words, his lips quivering in displeasure, desperately trying and failing to plaster a bogus smirk on his face. He looked over his shoulders, and Jonah realized that something was clearly bothering him, for it evoked fear in his eyes.

"Can I come in?" He merely nodded, closing the door delicately behind him. He led Jonah to his room, the pastel pink walls seeming as soft and bubbly as the personality that flowed through Cyrus. He noticed how everything was positioned perfectly, organized in a certain way, being in contradiction with the boy's current state of mind. Jonah noticed how Cyrus incessantly paced back and forth, distress fogging up his mind and filtering his vision.

Jonah, after what seemed like hours, finally spoke up, "Are you okay?" Cyrus stopped in his tracks, turning to face the boy whom he secretly loved—the boy who caused his life to collapse. His heart skipped a beat, and his head was spinning. He couldn't regain his composure and broke down his walls, letting the tears stream down his porcelain cheeks. Jonah was quick to engulf him in his arms, allowing Cyrus' tears to stain his shirt. Somehow his heart knew what pained his best friend, and he could only tighten his embrace and accompany the boy who was lost in between reality and fantasy.

They remained in the solace of each other's arms, swaying slowly together to the sound of their heart beats. It was nothing and everything all the same, and Cyrus was grateful for it. The silent understanding they had had pacified his anger and confusion. The two had separated, and were subconciously still holding hands. Jonah was seeking for what colored Cyrus with apprehension, searching his eyes for an explanation. He could no longer bear to witness the boy's melancholy and so desperately wanted to fix him.

"Want to talk about it?" Cyrus nodded.

Jonah loved Cyrus' smile, and all of his hope had been worth something, for there appeared a small smirk on his face.

It was small, but it was enough.

* * *

 **A/N: Did any of you notice a very subtle "Girl Meets World" reference? I just had to add another one, and I'll probably sprinkle a few more later. This took me so long to write simply because I had trouble with pronouns. I couldn't consistently write "he" because it would confuse everyone, and I didn't want to repetitively use their names, so it was very frustrating. You didn't need to know that, but oh wellllll. Anyway, tell me what you think, and maybe you can give me some ideas that you'd like to see in future chapters?**


	3. Xenodochial

_X: Xenodochial_

—friendly to strangers.

...

College had started out being immensely difficult for Jonah.

On his arrival at the University of Utah, he had to trek through an insurmountable congestion of students and teachers, it was surreal. He felt alienated in this blur of names and faces. It took a vast amount of time to merely find his dorm, meet his roomate, exchange numbers, receive schedules, and unpack his bags, _or at least half of them_ , he mumbled to himself. Jonah ended the busy day passed out on his bed, his clothes still scattered at the foot of his bed and a plate of stale pizza rested on his pillow.

Two weeks later, classes begun and he was an emotional wreck. He loathed the restless day that awaited him, and sluggishly dragged himself to his 7 a.m. lecture for the Foundations of Biochem. He entered the appointed classroom and found a few other students, some already seated, tediously staring at their surroundings or scribbling little notes in their journals, others struggling to get themselves settled.

He sat down, finding himself lost in thought. Jonah had nothing to do, well, I don't want to do anything, he thought, so he found interest in fiddling with the tips of his index fingers. It wasn't until some guy plopped down on the seat next to him that he was actually engrossed in anything.

Jonah's gaze fixated onto the guy—a short, adorable _dork_ in a charcoal slim-fit vest that pulled over a white collared shirt. He slammed his books down onto the table and slouched in his chair, quickly opening up his Monster Energy drink and poured it into his coffee, chugging down the whole thing. His eyes dilated, and, looking as if he was going to puke, he chided himself, "Great. This is what happens when you decide to delay your sleep with the distractions of social media until four in the morning...I am going to _die_."

Jonah chuckled lightly to himself, to which the other guy furrowed his brows at. "What?" The guy snapped. Jonah was rather indifferent about his bitchy mood, and if anyting, it further entertained him. He liked meddling in the lives of strangers. It gave him a sudden penchant in conversation, bubbling with inquisition. "You gulped that thing down in less than a minute," a smirk still creeped on his lips, his inability to stifle his laughter angered the other guy. "You know, you're most likely going to get a massive headache later." The peevish stranger rolled his eyes and groaned, playfully punching Jonah's arm.

"Ugh, I _know_. But I couldn't let myself doze off in the middle of the stupid lecture, so what else to do but drown myself in caffeine?"

Jonah simply shook his head with a dopey grin, shrugging off the question. With this increasing appeal, he grew curious, prompting him to ask, "What's your name?" The anonymous oaf was seemingly caught in reluctance, feigning hesitance by stroking his chin, feeling the peach fuzz that was slowly becoming real facial hair.

After a few seconds of contemplation, he replied, "Cyrus Goodman, the epitome of perfection. And you, ya butt?"

"Jonah Beck," he held out his hand, "your average pretty boy."

"Well, I look forward to doing business with you, _Jonah Beck_ ," Cyrus slurred his name flirtatiously, making the aformentioned man flustered. They shook hands, and for some reason, they lingered in each other's grasp for a second longer and Jonah realized that college was going to be a very, very long journey.

* * *

 **A/N: This was quite interesting. Yes, it's a totally different universe in which they only met in college. (Don't have experiences with colleges, so if it's totally unrealistic to you personally, don't judge.) It's random and cute and weird and I LOVE JYRUS SO MUCH? Well, please review and give constructive criticism. It would be much appreciated.**


	4. Weird

_W: Weird_

 _—very strange; bizarre._

 _..._

Under the moonlight the avenue lay still; the heat of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze and Jonah sauntered under the trees with a sweater dangling from his arm. He moved between the pools of streetlight, feet almost silent of the sidewalk still wet from the spring rain. A pair of headlights came bouncing over the hill, blinding him temporarily before passing and disappearing.

Him and Cyrus were going to spend their honeymoon in their new apartment. They weren't doing well financially and the overload of bills were bringing them back to reality. But, they were hanging on to hope, and they got through it together. And, even though it isn't their dream home, with the cute little nook they wanted, it was okay, because eventually they'll get there.

Jonah left with an alibi of 'going to to run a quick errand,' and refusing to further elaborate, he briefly pecked his husband on the lips and skipped out the door with his sweater. He had gone out to purchase boxed chocolates and roses—a cliché gift, but Cyrus loved it nonetheless. Cyrus was in dire need of a break, wanting to have a romantic interlude to themselves for once. So, Jonah thought he should at least give Cyrus something to cheer him up.

It was around _10:00_ in the evening, and Jonah waltzed in their apartment with the soft jingle of keys, hiding the treats in his arms covered by his sweater. As he came in, he heard music reverberating throughout their small facet of a home, trailing behind the fast beats of the song and a familiar voice rapping along with it. He peeked through their bedroom, only to find Cyrus smothering their cat in kisses and dressing him up in cute, festive outfits while singing Buy U A Drank by T-Pain. Jonah cringed at the sight, but it still seemed all too adorable. _How did I end up with a guy like him...? I am so lucky..._

"Aaron Purr," he chided at their blatantly uncomfortable cat who squirmed in his clothes, "stay still. I want to surprise daddy with a little treat..." Jonah's cheeks flushed with crimson, smirking at Cyrus' humor. He delicately knocked on the door and his husband jumped, startled by the unexpected sound. Cyrus pivoted around and gasped dramatically, "Jonah Asher Beck Goodman, do _not_ scare me like that!"

Jonah chuckled endlessly, pacing over to him and cupping his cheeks, he pulled Cyrus flesh against him, and sent his giggles past the other man's lips. "I'm sorry, babe. But, I heard it through the grapevine that you have a surprise for daddy?" Jonah whispered into his ear, making goosebumps prick up from every inch of Cyrus' body. It was his turn to blush, narrowing his eyes at Jonah, smirking flirtatiously at him.

" _Definitely_."

"Well, I actually have something for you, too."

"Oh, _really_? You wanna show me in bed, Jojo...?" Cyrus tempted, his risqué side showing through his mischievous grin. His other half couldn't help but snicker at his dirty humor and all these weird nicknames.

Jonah prompted then, "Maybe...but, I also have something else to lighten up the mood," holding out the box of chocolates and the bouquet of roses in front of Cyrus. He could tell that his husband was appreciative, given the heart eyes that shone through his orbs of burnt sienna. "You've done so much for us and you work too hard. Even after I nag you to no end, being this frustrating dork who always screws up, you somehow still love me and make me feel like some angelic entity when in fact, I'm not. So, thank you." Cyrus kissed him once more, and slipped his hands into Jonah's, weaving his fingers through the other's own.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Wanna build a pillow fort?"

"Sure, why not?" They weren't the perfect couple. They were flawed, imperfect _weirdos_ who hadn't a clue what they were doing, but they knew the reason why. They were two _dorks_ in love and they met in between, helping each other through the trials of the universe and a new stage in their lives: adulthood.

It was going to be very difficult, but it would be all worth it.

* * *

 **A/N: Welp, didn't expect it to be dirty, because I WANT THEM TO BE IN CHARACTER. And, as much as I want to, I shouldn't be dirty, but I am such a horrible person, so here ya go. Not much to say except please give your feedback (and favorite this story while you're at it...)! It would be _much_ appreciated!**


	5. Vague

_V: Vague_

 _—of uncertain, indefinite, or unclear character or meaning._

...

It had been a few months since Cyrus came out to everyone as gay. As his pessimistic self had predicted, he'd been hit with these verbal rocks and gay slurs. He assured his friends and family that it didn't hurt him, when in fact it was a blatant lie that anyone could see through. But, it didn't cease his feelings for the person he fell hard for.

He was helplessly in love with Jonah Beck and he wanted—needed everyone to know.

So, he did as envisaged by many and finally prompted to confess to Jonah. He descried a familiar silhouette in the corner of his eyes, turning to see Jonah talking to a couple of guys in their grade. It seemed he took note of his gaze, glancing back at Cyrus with his beautiful sea foam eyes. Ugh, why did he have to be so hot? Cyrus thought to himself as Jonah walked over to him with that trademark smile of his, flashing his pearly whites and cute little dimples.

"Hey, Cy-Guy!"

Cyrus nervously giggled like the little kid he was, and a rush of worry flowed throughout him. He stammered like he always did when he was around, "H-hi, Jolamajamaaaa." Are you kidding me? That's all you got, Cyrus? The faltering boy bit his lip and decided that he needed to regain composure. You're losing your cool! Well, it's not like you had any...

"You crack me up!" Why does he always laugh at my nicknames and jokes? They're definitely not funny. Cyrus needed to say something. He needed to flirt with Jonah. He needed to let him know that he loved him. In the background, he conveniently heard someone mention something about chemistry class, and he smirked with joy.

"W-we have chemistry together," Cyrus mumbled anxiously as the bell rang, trying desperately to point out his crush on Jonah. Apparently Jonah didn't comprehend the pick up line, because his eyebrows knit together in confusion, pursing his soft lips together.

"We don't even have the same science class...?" Jonah corrected obliviously, heading to his next period, while Cyrus slowly retreated, noticing Andi and Buffy snickering from behind. He narrowed his eyes at them and scowled, only increasing their amusement.

...

They had their lunchtime interlude by the next time Cyrus attempted to flirt with Jonah. Andi and Buffy were sitting with the two, wanting to witness Cyrus' cringeworthy flirting. So, he spontaneously blurted, "Jonah, do you have a name or can I call you mine?" His horrible stab at using pick up lines made the girls erupt with laughter while it discombobulated the poor victim of these cheesy sayings.

"Um, I do have a name...you just said it." Cyrus gave himself a major facepalm while Jonah slowly got up to throw his trash, probably trying to escape this awkward situation Cyrus put him in. But, of course, his persistence boosted him up and he trailed after Jonah, gushing without thinking, "Can I follow you? 'Cause my mom told me to follow my dreams?"

"Uh, sure?"

Cyrus tripped over a rock and winced in pain. Jonah rushed over to Cyrus, his demeanor transitioning from edgy to apprehensive. "Ow! Do you have a band-aid? Because I scraped my knees falling for you." He immediately scrapped through his bag, obtaining what he was looking for. He took Cyrus' knee, placing the band-aid over his cut. Cyrus didn't think he'd take it so literally, only noticing now that he actually scraped himself.

"Are you okay?"

"I was feeling a bit off today, but you definitely turned me on."

"What?"

Cyrus' eyes flickered towards the hand on his knee, spreading warmth throughout his body. He weakly shrugged off his embarrassment, and suddenly a tear painted his cheek, soon dying on his lips. He sighed in surrender, "You don't get it, do you?" Jonah's heart abruptly clenched in his chest, pouting in guilt, not knowing what he did wrong.

"Um, n-no...?"

Cyrus slowly nodded in defeat, gnawing on his lips. He was emotionally, and well, physically hurt, feeling as if Jonah bitterly slapped him across the face. "I l-like you, Jonah. I have for a very long time. And, I really w-wanted to tell you, but I was so scared to, and I tried being subtle about it, while conveying how I feel, so I decided to tell you cheesy one liners, and it's been so overwhelming, especially with Andi and Buffy teas—" He was stunned as Jonah crashed his lips onto his, definitely shutting him up. After a few seconds, he finally kissed him back, and it seemed like they were there for hours and seconds all the same, the world around them faded into a beautiful palette of colors.

"I like you, too, Cyrus."

Cyrus' face exploded with happiness and Jonah swears that that smile plastered on his face was the brightest he's ever seen it.

* * *

 **A/N: I love Oblivious Jonah and I might want to make him clueless about Cyrus' crush in later chapters. It's so CUTE, I love it.**


	6. Unconditional

_U: Unconditional_

 _—not subject to any conditions._

...

Cyrus wasn't perfect, and he knew that.

He was the shortest boy in the eighth grade. He was rather weak, having an immense hate for sports and athleticism. There were many other girls who had exceeded his strength, speed, and flexibility, to which he was incessantly ridiculed for.

The petite boy had also been teased for his femininity, which was so blatantly displayed in the clothes he wore, the way he speaks, and even with how he walks. It was as if everyone except himself dictated how he was supposed to dress, act, or speak.

There were always these rules that he had to follow so that he can become more 'masculine', and boundaries that can't be crossed. So what if he wanted to paint his nails pink or go shopping with his friends? Why did it matter to everyone around him?

And, the main target of this whole bullying thing was the fact that he was gay. It was so terribly spread that boys were scared to be his friend, in fear that he might fall in love with them. It was the ultimate reason why he had very few friends, and he's so _incredibly_ grateful for Andi and Buffy, for they were the only ones who accepted him for who he was, no matter what.

Then, there was _Jonah Beck_ , the most popular guy at Jefferson Middle School.

He was not like the others. He smiled at Cyrus when the others often spat at him with utter disgust. He helped Cyrus back onto his feet when the others pushed him down. He defended Cyrus when the others threw gay slurs and typical vulgar insults. Jonah was always there for Cyrus no matter what, and he fell in love with Jonah's charm.

He was getting too attached for his own good, and he knew that even when the boy of his dreams was being nice to him, he still didn't have a chance with the likes of _Jonah Beck._

But, it was nice.

It was nice having the attention of Jonah, even if it was for a little bit. These were the moments he would remember and he would never forget the chivalry that someone like _Jonah Beck_ bestowed on him.

Months later, he wouldn't expect a certain person to come up to him with a stammering confession that he did indeed like Cyrus back. That he was in love with Cyrus despite his imperfections. That he saw his every flaw as only a piece to a beautiful masterpiece, and that Jonah Beck was completely and desperately in love Cyrus Goodman.

Cyrus wasn't perfect, but Jonah still couldn't help but fall in love.

* * *

 **A/N: OKAY, DID ANYONE SEE THE SHORT ANIMATION FILM "IN A HEARTBEAT"?! BECAUSE, _OH MY GOSH_ , THAT MADE MY WEEK. IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT YET, _PLEASE_ DO! IT DESERVES ALL THE ATTENTION AND PRAISE IT'S GOTTEN! Oh, anyway, this chapter was kind of rushed, and I dunno why I zipped through that (maybe because I'm tired and I need sleep, AND GOD I'M TOO OBSESSED WITH THIS SHIP). I just wanted to show that Jonah loved Cyrus unconditionally, which is the exact same way he loves Cyrus in the show, so, yeah...The next chapter will be _really_ angsty. I don't know what else to say except that, so goodbyeeeee.**


	7. Tender

_T: Tender_

—showing gentleness and concern or sympathy.

...

"Babe," the raven haired boy mumbled sleepily, staring into the other boy's sea foam orbs with his doe eyes. He was petrified of the incessant peals of thunder, finding the lightning to be so bright that he thought the world was on fire. The lightning came again, a brilliant shock of white in the graphite sky, forking silently to the unsuspecting ground—the thunderous boom always calling its warning too late. The frightened boy escaped into the solace of his covers, bringing his knees close to his chest, "can you stay with me for a little longer?"

Jonah simply nodded, his eyes full of concern. He cuddled up next to a trembling Cyrus, letting the other boy rest on his chest. Cyrus could hear the soft beats of his heart, letting the pattern serenade and soothe him. Thunder boomed much louder than the previous, making Cyrus jump a little.

The brunette's frown only deepened. "Here," Jonah hummed softly, snaking his hands through Cyrus' own, knitting their fingers together perfectly. "I'll hold your hand until you sleep. I'll hold your hand forever." Cyrus smiled, his tears sliding down his porcelain cheeks, fading away as the moments passed. He cuddled into Jonah's chest, letting the scary sounds and flashing lights whisk away, Jonah's presence being the only thing that consumed his mind, thoughts, and vision.

Every night after, Jonah promised to hold Cyrus' hand while he fell asleep.

...

A pair of headlights came bouncing over the hill, blinding them temporarily before passing and disappearing. Cyrus' attention had been trained on his feet, placing one in front of the other as if on a balance beam. He used the yellow mark along the road as a beam, getting out of his well kept poise as he walked further down the street. He had let go of Jonah's hand a few seconds ago, keeping his hands up in the air at his sides, maintaining his stability. Jonah silently watched the other boy in awe. He continued to ponder everyday how Cyrus could be so enthralling to witness.

Jonah thought he really _was_ the luckiest man alive, falling deeper in love with Cyrus each and every day. It's funny, really, because he never would have thought that he would be dating his best friend since the seventh grade. He gracefully laughed, and Cyrus smirked at the sound, Jonah's laughter being his favorite song.

"What's so funny?"

Jonah beamed obliviously, shaking his head, opening his mouth to say something and—

Everything became a blur.

Even the passage of the light slowed and the sounds became as if underwater. Aside from the beat of Jonah's heart, no muscle would move. That pounding inside beat a rhythm to the words of his execution, the cold steel Cyrus' judge and jury. The bullet entered as if Cyrus was nothing, just meat, blood, bones, blasting a cavity in his back as it burst crimson into the fading day. His face, so beautiful in life was frozen, eyes open, mouth slack, as he was propelled backward.

You could only hear the piercing screams that erupted from Jonah, sprinting towards Cyrus with all of the power he had, diving down towards Cyrus's body, surrounded by a small pool of fresh blood.

Jonah's world seemed to collapse around him. His heart had this sudden burst of anger and melancholy and sadness that he's never felt before. His neck was jolted with electricity and his palms were cold and numb. He was so overwhelmed.

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down Jonah's face. He could feel the muscles of his chin tremble like a small child and he looked towards the streetlights, as if the incandescence could soothe him. There is static in his head once more, the side effect of this constant fear, constant stress he lives with. He could hear his own sounds, like a distressed child, raw from the inside. It takes something out of Jonah he didn't know he had left to give. That's the way it is when people are hard. It's like a theft of the spirit, an injury no other person can see.

" _CYRUS_!" Jonah tried, " _PLEASE_ , CYRUS! Can you hear me?! Tell me you're okay. Don't die, _please_..." Fourteen simple words constructed of simple letters, spoken courteously through his soft tone of voice, only cutting through Cyrus. His eyes burned with an ache to sob as his stomach rock back and forth on the harsh waves of fear. _Why are we taught to fear it_ , he asked himself. _Why_? Whether deaths is an eternal abyss of darkness, a fiery pit, of a clouded castle, we fear it. Whether it comes as a relief or a surprise, we fear it. Cyrus couldn't remember anyone teaching him to fear the inevitable, yet he did, but _why_?

In that moment, he could only hold out his hand to Jonah, the other boy enveloping the cold, yet soft hand immediately. Cyrus quietly mumbled, wiping away the tears that danced on Jonah's cheeks, "Hold my hand...I-I'm falling asleep..." His eyes held Jonah's and in those fractions of seconds Cyrus was there and then gone, the warmth of the ages that had been his love simply _vanished_.


	8. Starry

_S: Starry_

 _—full of or lit by stars._

 _..._

Cyrus loved watching the stars. They had this certain beauty that seemed such a rarity, something he couldn't quite find much of in his life. He found solace in the elation the stars brought him, oftentimes escaping to a quiet place, just a few minutes from his house, where the stars were in view and he could only hear the soft whispers of the wind and the steady beats of his heart. That was where he felt safe to paint the grass with tears and enumerate the countless fears that suffocated him. It was routine for him to go there everyday—every single day since his parents divorced when he was ten.

This place was a secret from everyone.

Well, everyone except for Jonah Beck. He had finally prompted to show the most important person in his life the most important place in his life. It would be their first date together, and he needed to take Jonah someplace special to him.

They decided on walking there together after they met up at The Spoon with Andi and Buffy, the eager trek to the secret paradise consisting of venting, holding hands, and not-so-subtle flirting. As soon as their feet had danced through the field of flowers, the sky's black landscape had been painted with little drops of gold. They were kissing under the stars and nothing seemed more magical than this moment.

"This is amazing, Cy."

"It reminded me of you," the aforementioned boy whispered, who's face was now colored with rose petals. Jonah drew his brows together in perplexity, not quite understanding what he meant.

"How did I remind you of this place?"

Cyrus reached out for Jonah's hands and was reluctant to continue, not knowing how to limit his feelings to words. His heartbeat sped up a little, now in sync with the other's own rhythm, and began, "Because, t-to me, you are the stars," he could make out the soft hitch of Jonah's breath and squeezed his hands reassuringly, "You shimmer and shine in your own individual way and somehow let your incandescence spark through others' hearts, too."

It was Jonah's turn to melt into a crimson red. Cyrus' words had lifted him in a way that he's never experienced before. He had always been self-conscious and insecure, but he held up a pretty convincing (concurrently breaking) façade, but the openly gauche and admittedly _adorable_ boy in front of him had saw past his perfect composure and made Jonah feel comfortable enough to be himself in front of him and Jonah greatly appreciated it, but he was still incredulous. "I don't believe you...I've never been told this before."

"Then I'll keep saying it until you can start believing."

"I love you, Cyrus Goodman."

Cyrus chuckled, looking back up to him and realized how intense Jonah's gaze was. He had looked at Cyrus like he was the whole world and that made him feel all sorts of things.

"I love you, Jonah Beck. And I'll never stop."

* * *

 **A/N: This was actually supposed to be the first chapter for the letter _A_ , but it didn't really fit the word, so I moved it to here. This was a little messy, but nonetheless okay. And this may be a lot of romance considering this is a Disney show, but at least it isn't too heavy, like _intense_ makeout scenes (huehuehuehue, prolly will do that for future chapters...*devilish smirk*), so that's good, I guess. There will be fluffier, angstier, mushier ones later. Anyway, I'll see ya tomorrow! **


	9. Rare

_R: Rare_

 _—unusually good or remarkable._

 _..._

It took one shy stride past the double doors and he was already overwhelmed.

The music roared through the atmosphere, piercing through the chatter and laughter that dared to compete with the deafening song. Each thump of the music had reverberated through the gymnasium and vibrated in his body, as if the beat was replacing his heart's own. There were so many people, the whole vicinity around him being a blur of names and faces. He couldn't bear the ache that lingered in his stomach, threatening to explode, and started to pace towards the bathroom, his vision slowly starting to fog up. Prom wasn't his kind of setting, and although he basked in the idea of dressing up, he wasn't one for this ludicrously wild scene.

A familiar voice swam into his ears softly, causing his eyes to dilate and his heart to palpitate rapidly, "Cyrus," the voice said breathlessly, uttering his name as if it were a sweet lullaby, "you—you l-look...beautiful." The last word was laced with delicacy, sung quietly with the same velvety tone that the silhouette always had when speaking to him.

Cyrus gradually glanced up, his eyes dancing towards the boy now in front of him, beholding the beauty that life had blessed his eyes with. His heart was beating faster in spite of him, his mind was consumed with too many thoughts to process. He had just been called beautiful by the love of his life and it had suddenly been more overwhelming than the thundering music and scattered conversations that played in the background.

"Th-thank you, Jonah," he replied with a stammering voice, the words escaping past his lips without prior thought. He could only capture the image of this elation, noticing how Jonah beamed with a euphoric display. Stars aligned along his teeth, moons peeked beside his dimples, and galaxies were swimming in his pools of emerald. Cyrus couldn't believe that someone as gorgeous as Jonah could call him 'beautiful.'

The music had snapped him back to reality, and he jumped in fright. His lips were subtly quivering and he was shuddering just a little, but somehow Jonah seemed to noticed. "Are you okay, Cyrus?" The boy in question shook his head softly and Jonah's smile faltered. He saw how Cyrus covered his ears and shrunk down into a slouch as the song grew louder. "You wanna go outside?" The other boy nodded frantically in reply.

They walked past the crowds of seniors and made their way towards the door. The pair settled on the top stair just outside the gym, enabling them to still hear the song that was softly reverberating.

Like a brilliant pink road, the lights hanging above them danced across the sky, each color slowly fading into another. It snaked through the air and disappeared behind the trees, a darker purple aura clinging to one side of it. Stars slowly emerged into the palette of hues, veiling the blooming landscape with light. They let its beauty sink in, remaining in tranquility for a while.

It was nice, being alone together, merely seeking solace in the masterpiece of the sky. Words didn't need to be exchanged, and they both understood that. Time had paced forward rather swiftly, the brilliant color of the sky fading into a dark field of ink, noting how late it was.

The booming music whisked away and altered into a slower melody. Jonah gazed at Cyrus who was fidgeting with his fingers, staring down at the dull pavement that they rested on. Hesitating for a moment, he steadily gathered himself and stood up. "May I have this dance?" A smile played about his lips as he offered his hand to Cyrus. Unlike before, he felt calm in the company of his best friend—his crush. It was an amazing feeling.

Jonah guided him up and settled one hand on Cyrus' waist. His other hand held Cyrus' own, lacing their fingers together delicately. Cyrus imitated the placement of Jonah's hands, and blushed with embarrassment. He nuzzled into the crook of Jonah's neck, smiling softly to himself.

They were dancing under the stars, swaying to the mellifluous beats that vibrated through the air that blossomed with color and life. They basked in all its wonder, seeking for a sip of momentary grace. Their bright laughter serenaded the silence and their smiles painted the dark with ecstasy.

"Thank you, Jonah."

With furrowed brows, he questioned, "For what?"

Cyrus slowly loosened their embrace, and pulled back, searching into Jonah's eyes with a smirk that pulled up at one side. With a chuckle, he hummed under his breath, "Nothing," he paused, looking down at their hands and reassuringly squeezed Jonah's. He gazed back up into his seafoam orbs and sighed sweetly, "Everything." Sparks danced in his fields of chestnut, and in this moment he was truly happy.

* * *

 **A/N: I added in another subtle "Girl Meets World" reference because why not? Anyway, this was just a sweet take on what I vision their senior prom to be like. It seems too good to be true, personally, but I like fluff and Jyrus is too pure. So, school starts tomorrow for me, and I don't know how I'll possibly be able to publish another chapter (I'm so dumb for not pre-writing this. I knew school was coming up and I could have finished writing all the chapters beforehand, so updating everyday would be easier, but nooooo, I had to procrastinate...). I'll try to, but if not, I promise that I'll publish all the missing chapters on the weekend.**


	10. Queer

_Q : Queer_

 _—strange; odd._

...

Caffeine consumed his exhaustion for a mere hour. His body was begging for rest, prompting for at least a brief interlude of sleep. Yet, he was so distracted by the thoughts that illustrated his mind and colored him insane. Reality struck him with hysteria and he decided to be engrossed in the luxuries of social media. With a final swig of his coffee, he placed his mug in the sink and paced over to the refrigerator, scrutinizing each section of the freezer to find his preferred type of ice cream.

Insomnia claimed his night once more, robbing Cyrus of much needed sleep. He groaned in displeasure, sinking into his seat even more. Fighting with this lingering exhaustion, he slipped another scoop of strawberry ice cream into his mouth. The taste somehow made him erupt with slight euphoria, and he debates whether he should bask in its entirety and finish the whole thing or not. Shrugging, he decides to just whisk away his sorrows with the dessert.

"Are you going to eat an entire tub of ice cream by yourself?"

He glanced up sluggishly, lethargy consuming his every move. He deciphered the silhouette that swimmed across the floor, his mind skipping to new thoughts. Jonah slowly made his way to Cyrus and plopped down in the adjacent stool. Cyrus sighed with a subtle smirk that played on his lips, "Hopefully," he mumbled, waving his spoon softly in the air, "Unless you selfishly want a bite."

Jonah rested his head on Cyrus' shoulder, cuddling into the crook of his neck. He sleepily hummed, "What are you doing up at two in the morning?"

The other man shrugged slightly, raising an inquisitive brow. With another dollop of his strawberry treat, he replied with a hum of curiousity, "I could ask the same thing." Jonah played with the hem of his shirt, basking in his thoughts with oblivion. They were both drowning in chaos, severing themselves from reality. It was hard to concentrate on this unfamiliar brink of perplexity. Life was a blur for the pair of clueless men, especially with everything that's struck them in the past year. From the death of Cyrus' mother to the reveal of Jonah's real parents somewhere across the world and the pile of bills and work they had—they succumbed to stress and they were overwhelmed.

"Well, I noticed you weren't in bed...for the fifth time this week." He was painted with apprehension, his euphoric grin ebbing away and replaced by a frown laced with lingering anxiety. Jonah sat up, his virescent eyes softening with sympathy. He hovered his hand over Cyrus', colored with growing altruism. Swirls of sepia weaved each unspoken word, narrating the stories that wouldn't dare to escape the rose kissed lips of the other man. Jonah searched into Cyrus' eyes once more, exhaling into question, "What's wrong, Cy? You know I absolutely dread seeing you like this."

Beads of worry swimmed in Jonah's emerald orbs and Cyrus could only give in to the hold the other man had on him. Fidgeting with his fingers, he sighed, "I-I don't know, honestly," he uttered with stammering words, "It's just that everything's been so hard to handle lately, and I don't know if I'm exaggerating—maybe I am. I'm a very dramatic person, but, uh, it's just so, so frustrating and it's just clouding my mind and I don't know if I can see right."

Jonah could see there was so much more that Cyrus wanted to say, but he decided the best thing to do was to embrace him—to hug him until all his worries went away.

For now, it was enough.

 **A/N: sorry for the long hiatus. I've been super busy and I'm more active on wattpad, so please forgive me. I'll be complete this book very quickly.**


	11. Paradise

_P: Paradise_

 _—an ideal or idyllic place or state._

 _..._

Bands of salmon stretch across the sky, its wonderful palette of colors mingling with another. Kissing the horizon, the sun's radiance dripped atop every surface, veiling the buzzing city with a tinge of gold. The air hummed softly, whispering sweet nothings to and fro. A field of flowers lay by a lovingly paved path, its petals dribbling with hues of pastel.

Surrounded by beds of roses and light that trickled through crisp, earthen browns, they lay beneath the coats of leaves, basking in the shade the tree gave off. Sipping tranquility, they succumbed to each other's embrace, swinging slowly in a big hammock. Puffs of pink pigmented their cheeks, staining them with a medley of emotions. They were a canvas of entangled limbs and faces filled with elation. Afternoon danced into evening in just moments, stars freckling the canopy of ink overlooking the pair.

Jonah's eyes peeled open, his gaze skipping down to the boy beside him. Cute, it was, to catch a glimpse of whom was so beautifully illustrated in front of him. Lips of rose formed a crescent, finding solace in this moment. He trembled at the sight of the boy—the way he so gracefully lay as if angels sung hallelujah; how he hummed sleepily every so often; or maybe the fact that he was escaping further into Jonah's side every second passing. Drowning in ecstasy, Jonah simply stared at Cyrus as if he hung up the moon that rested above them.

The dozing boy soon peeked lazily, unmasking his vision and finding Jonah gazing at him. Silence still crept between the two, breaths and stares being the only things shared. Clothed in life and brimming with innocence, the two spoke fluently through stares. It was somehow enough for them, though, just to sink into the presence of the other. Their hands slowly found each other, and their fingers knit together naturally.

The rest of the evening, they simply enveloped each other. Cyrus rested atop Jonah's chest, playing with a quaint lily he had found in the field. Jonah had one arm around the other boy and nestled into his raven hair, humming softly to himself. It was perfect—falling asleep in each other's arms, swinging back and forth with little words exchanged the whole night.

"I love you, Cyrus."

He glanced up at the other boy, simply searching his eyes. Cyrus could drown in those orbs of seafoam, merely dancing along with the spark that glistened amidst his eyes' canvas of green. Blushing furiously, he grinned like an idiot, overwhelmed with embarrassment. After moments of timidity, he summoned the courage to admit, "I love you, too, Jonah. You already know that. I always have and I always will."

"You're cute."

He burst with laughter, prompting a fit of giggles from Jonah. Trying to catch his breath, he mustered, "Please," he waved his hand dramatically, "we all know that I am." Cyrus was a blushing mess and Jonah was merely basking in its glory, absolutely smitten with the other boy. He'd ponder every single day how he managed to be so lucky. Life has existed for billions of years on Earth, and he managed to live in the same time period as Cyrus. Out of the millions of other boys in the universe, Cyrus was in love with him.

Miracles were rare—and maybe they were a rarity.


	12. Optimistic

_O: Optimistic_

 _—hopeful and confident about the future._

...

"Asher Rush Goodman, will you please keep still?"

The Goodmen—the moniker courtesy of Jonah—household had erupted with discord, silly banter ringing throughout the house. From the rose-pink light of dawn 'til the timid glimmer of dusk, they were engrossed in the numerous errands and chores that parenthood obliged. Time danced by effortlessly and they were met with fatigue. Two years ago, they didn't have the slightest notion that being fathers would be this difficult.

It was currently eight o' clock in the evening and Jonah was arduously trailing after a hyper two-year-old boy who was concurrently singing (mumbling) the "Elements of the Periodic Table" song, prancing around the room in his underwear, bubbling with childish buoyancy. The little boy was filled with excitement while Jonah was dead beat and too exhausted to play this little game anymore. He plopped down on the bed, sinking into the sheets that smelled of cinnamon.

"How's it going, babe?"

He deciphered the silhouette that swimmed on the wooden floor, his gaze flickering up at his husband. His eyes were the color of deep sienna, with a mischievous glint that seemed to reflect the corners of his mouth, which were fighting a smile. They were every shade of brown Jonah could imagine, a raw umber and caramel mix, dotted with bits of dark chocolate. They glow with humor and playfulness that gives him shivers and wraps him in a warm embrace at the same time.

"Oh, just fine," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Narrowing his eyes, a sliver of vexation peeked from his demeanor. Cyrus could only guffaw at how terrible they were at parenting. He looked over to their child who was currently staring absentimindedly at the few books that lay on the floor.

"Can you read me a story?"

Cyrus looked over to the book that the little boy held in his hands, the cover printed in large font, "The Giving Tree." Asher skipped over to his parents, handing over the book with a smile etched across his face. There had only been a few words said, and not even halfway through the story, Asher looked blasé about it. Seeking a way out of his mundane state, he feigned a yawn. "This is boringggg," he dramatically prolonged his words, emphasizing his boredom, "Tell me another story."

Jonah groaned, accumulating the rest of the books, "Okay, then which one do you want us to read?"

"I don't want any of those books! They're all so boring." Asher folded his arms, falling backwards onto the pillow in frustration. Jonah drew a brow at his son, turning to his husband for an idea. Cyrus merely shrugged, his nonchalance further annoying Jonah.

"Then what do you want us to do?"

"Tell me your story."

"Um," Jonah paused, dithering on whether to touch upon his and Cyrus' love story. After an interlude of thought, he flourished into narration, "well, it all began in a magical, wonderful living hell called Jefferson Middle School." He noticed the spark that danced in Asher's viridescent eyes, a swirl of mint swimming throughout his irises. Cyrus playfully punched his arm for the jarring description despite agreeing with the statement.

"Auntie Mac-N-Cheese joined my unforgivably cringeworthy Ultimate Frisbee team, the Space Otters. She was pretty cool. But, what was even cooler about your auntie was that she was best friends with this sexy, hot dork named Cyrus Goodman." Asher bursted into a fit of giggles at the mention of his dad's name, while the aforementioned man became a blushing mess. "I was quickly infatuated with this boy—he was the kindest, most charming boy I knew and I felt so lucky to be his friend. A few years later, I found myself on his porch, completely drenched from the rain, knocking on his door, and pulling him into a kiss that I couldn't help but drown in."

"From that moment, we had dated for almost a decade, but let me tell you, it was a difficult trial. It definitely wasn't easy. We were quite a mess, and we endured every obstacle the universe could possibly throw us. But, it was all worth it, honestly, because just a few years after, I proposed to your dad. Then, all those moments led up to the most important day of my life: when you were born." Cyrus hugged him, clinging onto his arm.

"This is my favorite story. Please tell me it all the time."

Nodding, they both kissed Asher's forehead, a gesture of farewell, and got up. They tucked him in, offering mumbles of "good night" and "sweet dreams."

"I love you," Asher sleepily mumbled.

"We love you, too, Ash."

They were blessed with a bunch of miracles, and they couldn't be more grateful. Their life was a mess, but it was honestly the best thing they could ever ask for.


	13. Nirvana

_N: Nirvana_

 _—a state of perfect happiness._

...

The water lies sleek on the sidewalk, darkening the sun-bleached grey to a glossy black. Stars overlooked the landscape of city lights, slightly veiling the inky canopy of night sky. The canvas of darkened colors stretched over his head, gloriously brilliant in the dipping sun. His heart, caged like a bird in his chest, thrummed with a strange sort of feeling as he saw the clouds vanish into thin wisps and the moon rising in the sky.

Rain had colored the front steps leading to his house, its soft mask of tears searching for surface to paint. Light flickered from the vintage porch light, its glow kissing their skin as they thrived in their words, whisking away the stories that dared to escape their lips. They were slouching against the railings, shots of whiskey gripped in their hands, sipping their worries away. They severed themselves from reality with small talk and alcohol, a ritual they would do here and there.

Taking a swig of his whiskey, Jonah prompted another thought, "Time's gone by so quickly. Look at us, from being two awkward, clueless eleven year olds to a pair of twenty year olds drowning their sorrows in booze." Cyrus chuckled, stifling a grin that threatened to show. Life's robbed them of their time, and it seems like the days pass with utter ease, as if it wasn't much.

"I'm sure I was the awkward one. You were the stereotypical popular guy—you were the nicest guy in our grade, like an actual human sunbeam, you were really athletic, and you had everyone on their hands and knees begging to be your friend. I was just that weird, nerdy kid on the side who cheered for you at every one of your games."

Green tendrils circled Jonah's pupil, filling up his iris with every wonder in life, intoxicating Cyrus with their depth. His emerald rimmed orbs had softened, his gaze coloring the other boy with light. Then his laughter ringed in Cyrus' ears, serenading him sweetly. "I refuse to believe that I wasn't at least awkward. I mean, I had a language of my own, with all these absurd catchprases like 'docious magocious' or 'you're through the roof gnarly, my dude'," he mimicked his youth, playing with an exaggerated tone.

"It was cute. You were always this beacon of hope and light in my life. You were so comfortable just being yourself around everyone and that's something I could never do. Or, at least not without you." Cyrus' eyes danced with streams of color, flickering with beads of bliss that traced around his chestnut orbs. He was this aura of pure happiness and Jonah could only melt at this image. A scope of his past engulfed him in a familiar hum of ecstasy.

They talked through liquor, their minds buzzing with influence, adrenaline pumping through their veins, their breaths dripping with strong odors; they let their emotions drive their conversations to places that seemed so familiar. He felt this burning sensation that creeped through his skin and threatened to make his hair rise. Was it the alcohol? Jonah was painted with rose petals, his cheeks flushed with crimson.

He feigned nonchalance, shrugging away the butterflies that fluttered about in his stomach. Yet, he couldn't maintain a straight face, a dopey smile etched across his face, stirring with anxiety and joy and everything in between. He couldn't mask the lingering feeling the other boy gave him.

Jonah constructed many scenarios in which he'd utter the words he's always longed to say, but he could scarcely fathom the idea of him doing it like this. Without prior thought, he breathlessly sighed a phrase of simplexity, seeming so natural to say.

"I love you, Cyrus."

And the mentioned boy with raven hair and eyes of burnt sienna and a beauty that could not be matched had responded with the only thing he could sum up in that moment:

"I love you, too, Jonah. I always have and I always will."

...

 **A/N: Yeah, I know, they were a littleee tipsy in this. Not "Disney appropriate," but I just wanted to see where my imagination would take me. It was hilarious to write because they are younger right now and definitely not legal. The scenario was fun to play with. Jonah definitely couldn't maintain a straight face when with Cyrus. Hehehehe. Oh, wellllll.**


	14. Mirthful

_M: Mirthful_

 _—full of mirth; merry or amusing._

...

Silence swimmed through the tranquil hum of evening, finding its way through the once lively abode. The dim light of dusk danced on the wooden floors, dripping past the flowing, pastel curtains. Night had swiftly creeped by, hours dwelling past in what seemed like mere seconds. It was already twelve o' clock in the morning; everyone had gradually succumbed to their exhaustion, sleeping in their assigned positions.

Well, almost everyone.

The "Good Hair Crew" and Jonah had a sleepover at Andi's house. They were lost in a game of Monopoly, attempting to pull an all-nighter competition. Of course, Buffy had prompted this idea, yet unfortunately failed, due to fatigue. She recently had a track meet and had been drained from it, but incessantly denied the notion. Andi, well, she's so accustomed to her curfew of 10:00 p.m.—even with Bex as her mom, Cece still somehow dictated when she had to go to sleep—and passed out shortly after the given time. Yet, Cyrus and Jonah were still up, vying for bragging rights.

"Sixteen rounds of Empire and I still haven't beaten you...how?"

The raven haired boy simply shrugs, shuffling the Chance cards. He places them down in their proper place, and glanced up at the brunet who was colored with curiosity. Stifling a chuckle, he feigned nonchalance, "You can blame my flourishing relationship with strategy. Oh, and if you haven't noticed my subtle sips of caffeine every few minutes that have boosted my energy, well...yeah."

Jonah found himself laughing, his weariness consuming him more every second. Drunk with exhaustion, he breathlessly sighs, "It's cute when you're confident." Cyrus could feel the heat growing in his cheeks. By now they must be beyond an attractive rosiness. Dissolving to puffs of pink, he shivered slightly under his mask of deemed confidence.

"Um, th-thank you...?" Veiled with hesistance, he thought over the countless results, illustrating each scenario he could imagine. It was a simple question—stupid, even, to think that anything would happen with a mumble constructed of hopeless optimism. Without another interlude of thought, he stammered with the words he could muster, "D-did you just say that I was...cute?"

Pursing his lips, he narrowed his eyes, feigning concentration. Nodding his head, he slowly led his gaze towards the other boy, blushing with a newfound interest. He chuckled, "Yes. Yes, I called you cute." Cyrus was only led further with confusion, fumbling with this foreign thought, sitting dumbfounded for the first time that night.

"You know, don't you?"

His doe eyes shot up, swirling with a blooming, chestnut hope. The brunet was staring at him with a smile playing on his lips, each cheek decorated with a thin dimple. Jonah stared at him with a different, yet similar look all the same. It was as if the spark that danced in his eyes was accompanied by a new kind of glimmer—one that seemed more hopeful.

"I-I, um—I don't...understand?"

With a few seconds of heartbreak and optimism all at once, he sighed, "I like you, Cyrus. More than I'm supposed to and I think—no, I kn-know that I always will."

"I-I like you, too, Jonah..."

A few giggles rose in the background, immediately snapping Cyrus out of whatever trance he was in.

"YES! FINALLY!"

He rolled his eyes at the sound of Buffy's voice and Andi's snickers. He turned back to Jonah and drowned in the sea he always found himself lost in, beaming amidst the dark of the night, lighting up every inch of the house.


	15. Lovable

_L: Lovable_

 _—inspiring or deserving love or affection._

...

Puffs of pink light flew through the pastel curtains, dribbling along the empty sheets and scattered pillows. Dawn's natural hum of ecstasy skid across each surface of the tranquil room. Left with a sip of momentary grace, a masculine silhouette with roses for lips drowned in luxury. Powders of virescent fields blazed in his irises, swimming with a familiar, burning radiance.

Bidding a shy yawn, he sluggishly rose, blinking away the exhaustion as golden buoyancy kissed his skin. Immediately, he could hear beckoning sizzles from the kitchen, whiffing the morning delight which prompted him to trail after it. His eyes met the beautiful image of his husband standing at the stove, completely engrossed in what he was doing. It was adorable, the way he knit his brows together, pursing his lips in concentration.

Jonah encompassed the raven haired man from behind, nuzzling his head into the crook of the his husband's neck, stealing sleepy kisses from the man whom dissolved to a bouquet of roses. Doe eyed and dumbfounded, a timid crescent played on his flushed lips, lighting up the whole room. "Hey, babe. You're up early," the brunet hummed sleepily, further nestling into Cyrus' neck. Brimming with curiosity, his fatigue led him to question, "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

Laughter erupted from his husband, serenading him with a pleasantly familiar song. He playfully stroked the peach fuzz that rested on his chin, breaking composure and chuckling a reply, "Bacon, eggs, and toast." Jonah licked his lips with anticipation, hunger coercing him into silence, growing more impatient.

"Yum," he chirped, sighing with delight. He then paused before pouting and dramatically quivering his lips as he groaned, "Hey, didn't we have that yesterday? Don't we have something else to eat?"

Cyrus arched a brow, his pools of hazelnut ablaze with vexation. He whined, "You can't be mean, because I cook the food." His words dripped with venom, loathing Jonah's picky taste. A vengeful prompt came to mind, making him smirk to himself, "...And I could poison you by putting something quite...distasteful in your food, maybe dissolved in the little nest of yolk."

"Then let me cook."

"You set the fire alarm off making mac and cheese!" Cyrus chewed on a piece of bacon, pondering on that hilarious reminiscence, the kitchen notoriously known for being a field of many other embarrassing memories, much to Jonah's chagrin. He merely shrugged, subtly stealing a bit of bacon from Cyrus with a kiss.

"Touché."

Another smirk rose from Cyrus' cherry lips, blossoming with an image of joy. A goofy smile lit up Jonah's face due to his husband's effortless charm, robbing himself of his nonchalance. He mustered a few words, "You're absolutely adorable in every single way and it's making me lowkey angry that I can't help but fall even more in love with you. I'd ask you to stop, but then I'd be the only cute thing in this house."

"You're such a dork. But, you're my dork, unfortunately," and he laughed, oh that beautiful laugh, again and now it's his favorite song. "And, there's no way I'd stop being adorable, even if I tried."

"That's true."

"I love you."

"I love you, too," Jonah breathlessly sighed. He could spend an eternity simply whispering sweet nothings to his husband, swaying to the lullaby his beauty emits, or counting the galaxies and multitude of stars that drowned in his fields of burnt sienna.


	16. Kind

_K: Kind_

 _—having or showing a friendly, generous, and considerate nature._

...

Cyrus hadn't the tiniest clue why he came tumbling into Jonah's window at 10:37 in the evening, drenched from the rain, carrying a bag full of medicines and supplies of all sorts merely for a cold the said brunet had, which could be easily cured. He probably seemed weird in the eyes of the countless juveniles in his high school. They'd beat him with gay slurs, stabbing him with all the insults they could possibly surmise.

Shut up, Cyrus. This is not about you right now.

"Cyrus? Wh-what are you doing here? And, y-you're soaking wet..." his eyes dripped with perplexity, his swirling viridescent irises boring holes into Cyrus' own field of burnt sienna. He shook out of his trance and swiftly grabbed a towel from his bathroom, enveloping Cyrus with it, gradually leading to the bed.

"Uh, I came here to take care of you, but it seems like our roles were switched."

Jonah sat down beside him, his arm still lingering around Cyrus' neck and the other laced with the boy's hand. His emerald stare had sparked Cyrus with euphoria, heating up a little from anxiety. "...Why did you need to take care of me? It's also pretty late...you wouldn't want to be seen with me at this time."

"Well, you weren't at school today, and I heard it through the grapevine that a Mr. Jonah Beck was sick, and I just had to attend to you." He abruptly discerned his words and immediately tried to fix his mistake, "I-I mean, you know me, I l-like to play doctor often. I do this with Andi and Buffy sometimes," struggling to muster any more words, he made up bogus stories, "a-and with some other kids at school like Smackle that one time she hit her head in gym, or Steven when his cat, Lion, scratched him on the face."

"Oh. Okay."

Cyrus saw the frown that bloomed on Jonah's face, quickly shuffling through his bag for something to cheer him up. He cheered to himself when he found his stethoscope. He decided to use it just for fun. "Ah! Here it is." He took it out and put it on, holding it up for Jonah to see. He held the diaphragm up to Jonah's chest, hearing a quite fast paced heartbeat drum in his ears. He took it away and went to look for his digital thermometer.

"You actually like doing this?"

Cyrus nodded as he checked Jonah's temperature. "100.4. When was the last time you checked?"

"Ah cupl ah menets ahgo," he mustered a few mumbles.

"Do you remember what it was?" He took the thermometer out of Jonah's mouth and let him answer.

"Um, it was 100.1, I think."

"Wow, it increased quite quickly."

Jonah simply nodded and Cyrus thought it was time to put all his stuff away. He was sure Jonah had been given his medicine, so he didn't think it was necessary to do anything else. "That's it?"

The raven haired boy shrugged, "Hey, I saved many of my stuffed animals' lives at the mere age of five, give me credit for trying. Oh, and I actually give pretttyy good medical advice on Tumblr. You should check that out sometimes." Realization dawmed on him, prompting him to shuffle through his stuff once more, pulling out a paper bag. Inside, he scooped up a little bowl that held hot, homemade soup.

"Ooh, what kind is it?"

"Chicken noodle. Simple, but amazing. I made it myself."

"Of course you did."

They remained there together, setting aside the now finished soup, nestling in each other's arms, not aware of what was going on around them. They simply let each other's company consume them, their worries ebbing away with each breath.


	17. Joyful

_J: Joyful_

 _—feeling, expressing, or causing great pleasure and happiness._

...

Flowers laced through waves of caramel, a palette of pinks, purples, and blues mingling in the tousled sea. Delicate hands caressed his porcelain face, coloring him with roses as a thumb traced his lips. Pools of emerald glistened at him, burning him with a breathless stare. A frown brimmed on his cherry kissed lips, his hazelnut eyes beading with curiosity. A thought prompted a shy mumble, yet hesitance begged him to swim in silence. Coerced into focus, he let soft hums escape his lips, "...Am I beautiful?"

A rose petal was laid upon his hair before a crescent buoyancy dissolved from the face of confusion. The other boy's brows knit together in perplexity, a frown following close behind. A pout picked at the other's pale lips, "Hm? That's a silly question. Of course you are, Cy." Jonah trailed his fingers along his boyfriend's own, letting his thumb knead the pastel pink polish that painted Cyrus' nails.

"But I look like utter trash." Insecurity had suffocated Cyrus, severing the bubbly beauty from everyone. Time slowly guided Jonah back into Cyrus' life, but that didn't cease his isolation. It'd been hard to escape from his thoughts, and Jonah did everything he could to convince him that he was beautiful and he didn't need to incessantly worry about his appearance.

His brows rose quizzically, scoffing in disbelief. "You couldn't not be pretty if you tried."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm not. You really are beautiful." He squeezed his boyfriend's hand affectionately, a soft smile tugging at his lips. His orbs of viridescence glistened with color, beaming at the other's that beaded with honey. A mischievous smirk bloomed from his face, an idea brimming on his lips. "Try to make the ugliest face you can muster."

"Ugh, you'll just make fun of me—"

"Just try."

"Fine. Hmmmm..." he hummed to himself, pursing his lips in concentration. He scrunched up his face, puffing his cheeks and wrinkling the bridge of his nose. The tips of his ears were a shade of crimson, blatantly embarrassed and scared of what his boyfriend was going to say. "How's this?"

"Hahaha!" Laughter serenaded the air,

"What?! *covers face* Was it that ugly?"

"Ahaha no! You just look even more adorable! Do it again!"

"Nooooooo."

"Aww, please?"

... *does face*

"Super pretty." *kisses Cyrus' nose*

*Buffy walks by*

"You two are gross."

...

 **A/N: I write too much fluff, jeez. But, I can't resist this cuteness overload! There's going to be more angsty shiz in later chapters because I love angst. Anyway, I hoped you liked it and, um, byeee.**


	18. Intimate

_I: Intimate_

 _—involving very close connection._

...

The first attempt is so ridiculous that they end up laughing when they bump noses, colliding heads the second time.

"Oh for god's sake, hold still," Jonah hummed. He caught hold of the other's chin, making sure they stayed put, and then leaned in carefully to press a quick, sweet kiss to his mouth, eyes dark and cheeks burning. "There." He sighed breathlessly, sinking into the indescribable feeling.

They sink into each other after a moment's grace. The kiss is a messy, graceless, eager thing. Fingers tangled in hair, stifled groans because it seemed impossible that so simple as lips upon lips could feel like this. He shuffled even closer to deepen the kiss. He'd thought a kiss would leave him satisfied, but now he wants more than ever.

He licked his lips and smirked seductively, and in one succinct move, he grasped Cyrus' shirt and pulled the man forward, ceasing movement right before their faces meet, now mere inches away from each other. Colored with mischief, he closed the dreadful gap between them and pressed their lips together, smiling into a kiss.

It was a foreign feeling: the whole world collapses around them, fading into an inky canvas. Suddenly, it was as if they were the only two people that mattered in that moment. A hum of pure bliss filled the atmosphere, their hearts beating together like a song. They were overwhelmed with ecstasy and something that couldn't be limited to words. They caught a glimpse of heaven and a sip of paradise, drowning in each other's embrace, sharing breaths and kissing all their worries away.

They pulled apart for a moment, saving their breaths for a second of momentary grace. They could hear nothing but soft whirs fading and growing in the background.

Their lips slowly made their way back to each other and—

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything here," Buffy slammed open the door, letting in the drones of the vacuum. "Just came here to clean a little." With her usual display of nonchalance, she continued vacuuming as if nothing just happened. The two looked at each other, raising their brows quizzically. Shrugging, they let their giggles slip into another kiss.


	19. Honest

_H: Honest_

 _—free of deceit and untruthfulness; sincere._

...

"Are you kidding me right now?"

Venom dripped from his words and drowned in his eyes. Petite beads of sweat cascaded from his face due to the cramped vicinity and the thick tension that swimmed in the air between them. His mind consumed with thoughts and bored into his thick skull, giving him a major migraine. Tapping his foot impatiently, he glanced at his watch, 10:42 p.m., and started fidgeting around like he usually does when he's angry.

"Calm down. At least they know that we're in here." The other man reciprocated despise, sinking further into his own embrace, bringing his knees closer to his chest. He played with the hem of his sweater, fatigue slowly getting to him. He was sick of this incessant banter that was thrown back and forth between them. They've been stuck inside this stupid elevator for an hour already and all this arguing wasn't helping their current predicament.

Separated by merely twenty two inches and a cluster of emotions, it seemed as if they remained in two different worlds, accompanied by only their thoughts. Silence seemed to bask in the space between them, lingering for minutes on end. Clouds of vexation fogged up their vision, yet deep down they yearned for each other's company.

"But, we have somewhere to go! Andi and Buffy are expecting—were expecting us an hour ago! And, you know how much I like to be punctual!"

"We could just tell them what happened. Don't worry. I'm sure they won't get mad over something like this."

Cyrus huffed, his eyes powdered with puffs of hazel exasperation. Cherry lips drew a thin line, pursing in irritation. Coerced into silence, he took deep breaths, hoping to pacify his emotions. No response could be mustered in the last minute, leaving Jonah on the edge of anxiety. Pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, Jonah prompted, "You know what? Let's play a game. If we're going to be here 'till midnight or beyond on New Years' Eve, then we might as well pass the time."

A series of questions were asked and answered, laughs serenading the once tranquil room. It was a sip of momentary grace in the discord of the battlefield. A familiar warmth spread throughout Jonah, happy that they weren't just exchanging mutual annoyance.

"Why don't you want to be my boyfriend?" The other man's eyes filled with hazel anxiety and the room once humming with bliss dissolved into an overwhelming silence that screamed in his ears. The crescent that once etched across Cyrus' porcelain face quickly faded to a thin line.

"Pass."

"You already used your pass." He didn't want to talk about his parents' divorce. When he was much younger, he thought they were the epitome of a perfect couple. But, as he years passed, they seemed to lose that connection they once had and after that, all he could remember were the screams that ringed in his ears and the harsh slaps that met his soft cheeks and singed his delicate face. They can't be in the same room without turning every conversation into an argument.

He silently cursed to himself, despise overwhelming him. He got himself into this. And, it was not like he had anything else to do. "...I don't want us to be a repeat of my parents."

"But, we're not—"

"Jonah, look at us now," he gestured to the space between them, his swirling pools of hazel illustrating his growing melancholy. A thin line of solemnity drawn across his face. "We always argue. We were just yelling at each other for the past hour."

"We don't always argue, and when we do, it's about stupid things like what to eat for dinner or what shirt I was wearing at last year's Christmas party."

"You were wearing your cute salmon dress shirt that we bought together just for the occasion."

"I was wearing—nevermind. Even if we do fight, it wouldn't matter. Couples fight all the time, and stupid arguments shouldn't affect our relationship. The only thing that matters is how we deal with all these conflicts. The only thing that matters is us."

"But, what if all this quarrelling leads to us breaking up? What if this tears apart our whole relationship and ruins what we have? What if we fight and then the next thing we know we've moved worlds away from each other and absolutely refuse to see each other? What if we turn into...them?"

With a shake of his head and a few tears painting his pale cheeks, he enveloped the other man in his arms, almost cradling him in his embrace. Jonah hushed him, assuring that everything was going to be okay. "We won't turn into your parents. Because, we love each other—we are in love with each other, unlike your parents. We won't let these little things get between us, okay?"

"Okay."

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah...and I love you, too."

"Does this mean you'll be my boyfriend, Cy?"

Cyrus rolled his eyes with a slither of a smirk creeping up on one side of his lip.

"Yes. I would love to be your boyfriend."


	20. Giddy

_G: Giddy_

 _—disorienting and alarming, but exciting._

 _..._

He wasn't expecting the stares and the giggles that came from peers and lower and upperclassmen when he walked inside Grant High School. Is it what I'm wearing? Is there anything on my face? I showered this morning... he thought as he took out his phone and looked at his camera, checking his face. His pupils dilated at another assumption that suddenly drowned him in his own thoughts, Oh, god, did anyone post something about me? I should turn back now while I have the chance...

"Jonah, hi!" One of the boys in his grade, Gus, came up to him, wearing a suspicious smile and letting out a nervous laugh. Oh, no. It's on there, too? What the hell happened...? You should probably go and look at the bulletin board over there. I'm sure you'll find what you see...amusing." His heart shrunk and he was going to burst into tears. He never felt more embarrassed and nervous than this moment.

He slowly waltzed over to the crowd of students gathering around the board. As he approached them, they had quickly moved away for him to see.

Win A Prom Date With Jonah Beck!

~CYRUS~

A wave of relief washed over him, and now he found himself blushing so much—too much. His cheeks were painted in deep crimson, his body creeping with goosebumps.

"Hi," the all-too-familiar voice breathlessly serenaded his soul and left him speechless, his eyes flickering with licks of gold. He turned around, drowning in ecstasy and awe and serenity as his eyes gazed over his best friend—his boyfriend—the boy who has stolen his heart and has held in his hands for longer than he could possibly remember.

"Cyrus...you scared me."

"I'm sorry for that, but I hope this could make up for it," Cyrus smirked, pulling out a beautiful rose from behind his back. He got down on one knee, swearing to himself for being so cheesy and cliché with Jonah agreeing, but silently falling in love with it. He held out the rose and exhaled with a shaky breath, "Will you, Jonah Beck, do me the honor of going to prom with me?"

"Oh, god, YES." There was applause and cheers and whistles and eye rolls and boos, but the two drowned out the world around them and let their lips meet. They were safe together and that was all that mattered in that moment.


	21. Forever

_F: Forever_

 _—for all future time; for always._

 _..._

Evening dripped on the window and stained the pastel walls, cascading along the rain that pattered against the glass. It was almost midnight, and they laid together on Cyrus' bed, simply staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes and skipping hearts, each beat in harmony with the other's. They've been laying down for hours, like they always do, just talking about nonsense and whatever plagued their flooding minds.

It was the last night before they were finally seniors. They knew they were going to go their separate ways soon, but they weren't ready to let each other go. Not yet.

Not ever.

"Cyrus?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that we're not going to be together forever, right? We're not always going to be there for each other and we might not talk for a while after high school. We're moving on."

"Jonah, don't say that—"

"I'm serious," he sat up, Cyrus doing the same, biting his lip in anxiety. He was lost in Cyrus' beautiful orbs of burnt sienna, losing himself in the burning chestnut seas that he always seemed to drown in. He was going to miss staring into them. He was going to miss that mesmerizing laugh that escaped his cherry lips. He was going to miss the smile that burned brighter than the stars. He was going to miss Cyrus Goodman, the only person who makes him weak in the knees.

"I like y—I like being around you. You're the most important person to me and I never want to lose our friendship." He pulled out a small, velvet box, revealing two silver rings nestled inside.

"Ummm, I would love to accept the offer, but don't you think that's a big step...?"

Jonah shook his head and laughed, his smile growing wide, dimples accompanying the beaming crescent. "No, Cy, it's a promise ring. I want you to have it and I want you to promise that we'll be friends forever, because I never want to lose you. And, I know, it's cliché and stupid and cheesy, but—"

"It's perfect," the other boy let out a breathless sigh, his eyes twinkling at Jonah. They slid the rings on each other's finger, ecstasy teeming in the midnight air. Jonah engulfed Cyrus in his arms, letting him rest his head on his shoulders. They were safe from the storm and found solace in the serenity of each other's company.

"Forever?"

"Forever."


	22. Ethereal

_E: Ethereal_

 _—extremely delicate and light in a way that seems too perfect for this world._

...

He didn't know what could possibly describe Cyrus.

He was not the perfect boyfriend Jonah's always dreamed of—he was so much more. He was all the more phenomenal, beautiful, witty, kind, selfless, and simply amazing by ten fold.

Every part of Cyrus seemed to burst with color and a beauty that was ineffable. Words couldn't begin to describe the person whom Jonah loved. It was as if every time Cyrus came to vision, thought, or word, his heart beat a little faster, and he felt as if his face was on fire. His eyes illustrated a story that Jonah couldn't even say himself.

Every time they kissed, his mind would fill with a palette of vibrant hues, all clouding up his thoughts and drowning him in a daze. Each time was even more amazing, from giving a quick peck on his boyfriend's strawberry lips to losing himself in Cyrus' soft yet yearning touch. Butterflies pervaded his stomach and sank deep in his heart. It was all too amazing to describe.

Everything seemed to disappear around them, as if they were alone in that moment. Their thoughts fade to a crisp and time ceases for a second, sparing them an interlude of grace, simply losing themselves in each other's embrace, silently screaming for the other not to let go—to never let go and to hold on until time no longer permits them to. It seemed as if every kiss was their last until the next kiss they shared.

Jonah was a blushing mess around Cyrus, but felt at ease all the same. He was on cloud nine, floating high above the heavens and drowning in the soft tint of dawn. His heart was a mellifluous orchestra serenading his mind, conducted by the vigorous feelings that persisted in his thoughts. It was as if each beat left an undying question of why or how or when or what. And with every waking moment spent with Cyrus, each question was answered because now he knows why and how and when and what.

He's in love with Cyrus and that's all there is to say.

That's all he needs to know.

And that's the only thing he'll every truly know.

That he, Jonah Beck, is in love with him, Cyrus Goodman, forever and for all eternity.


	23. Delicate

_D: Delicate_

— _tactful and considerate._

...

Warmth bloomed from the quaint, flickering candlelight and a fuzzy feeling danced in their chests, heat rushing to their rose tinted cheeks. There were no words, just the symphony of their heartbeats and the soft breaths that slowly escaped their fragile lips. Their eyes had an unspoken conversation, as if they could understand each other with a simple glimpse into the other's eyes.

"I wish you told me sooner."

Tension teemed in the space between them, their eyes flooding with sincerity. Evening cascaded into the candlelit room, kissing their skin with small licks of moonlight. Cherry lips exhaled into midnight, drowning in the anxiety that anchored him down. Words lingered on the tip of his tongue, unable to escape pass the strawberry cages that it was trapped in.

"I'm sorry."

Scars aligned along his arms like constellations, an astonishing and melancholic image all the same. Jonah delicately traced each mark, carefully examining each one. Stories were illustrated in his mind, his heartbeat quickening with every scarlet stitch that drew deep on Cyrus' skin.

He couldn't believe it.

"Why did you do this?" Tears beaded down his cheeks, staining his skin with painted worry. He encompassed Cyrus' hand into his own, giving it a soft squeeze. Delicate circles were traced on Cyrus' smooth skin, his thumb caressing his gliding up to Cyrus' porcelain cheek lightly tinged with pink. His breath hitched as he wiped away a tear on the other boy's cheek.

"It's...all my fault."

" No, Cyrus, it's not—"

"It's my fault that my dad left. Because I'm gay. I had to have stupid feelings for stupid boys. For...stupid you..." Blood trickled lightly from his lip, his teeth digging deep into his cherry lips as he released a bitter chuckle. Jonah immediately encompassed Cyrus in his arms, breaking into sobs as the other boy stained his shirt with tears. He shook his head, "It's not your fault. And this should not be a reason to cut. There should never be a reason to cut. I don't want to lose you, Cyrus...I-I couldn't...A-And, you're no different...just because you like boys...or me...it wouldn't matter. You're still Cyrus Goodman—the smartest, kindest, sweetest, most amazing guy anyone would ever have the joy of knowing—no matter who you like."

"Then...why did my dad leave me?"

"Because he was blind enough not to see how incredibly amazing you are."

"Th-thank you, Jonah."

"Thank you, Cyrus...for everything you are."


	24. Confident

_C: Confident_

— _feeling or showing certainty about something._

...

Evening slipped through the flowing white curtains, a sip of grace swimming through the room. They were splayed out on the floor—their bags wide open with notebooks and papers spilling out of them. Papers crumpled like crunching leaves dancing in the autumn air, thrown across the room (and occasionally at Cyrus, whom might often free that sweet, dulcet giggle that Jonah would call his lullaby).

"Okay, okay, no more," another chuckle slipped past his strawberry lips, his cheeks tinge with a rosy pink, "Come on, Jonah. W-We have to finish this tonight." Playful vindiction prompted another shot at his beaming target, bursting in a fit of tears and giggles. Laughter seemed to be the only song to resound in the lighthearted atmosphere, work delayed by exuberant innocence and sluggishness.

"Aww, can't we finish it tomorrow?"

Amusement led his fiery chestnut eyes, flickering with light as his gaze glided up and down the other boy's body. They were a wonderful scene to observe: drowning amidst the pale sheets of their glowing hearts and doe eyes, laughter resonating from each of their pretty lips of strawberry, and seas of paper sailing above the twinkling atmosphere that teemed with glee. He breathlessly sighed, "It's due tomorrow. It's your fault we procrastinated so much."

"Are we playing the blame game now? Don't go pointing fingers here, mister."

"Mmmmkkkaaaayyy then."

"Jonah!"

They were brought back to reality by the gravelly voice that beckoned for Jonah. "JONAH! Where are you? Come down here!" The boy in question groaned, his smile quickly fading to a hardened expression. His eyes lost its spark and dulled quite significantly as he raced out the door. Before he was out of sight, he turned to Cyrus and mouthed 'I'm sorry' and yelled in reply, "I'm coming!"

Tersely, his eyes flicker towards the door, the atmosphere that was once a hum of exuberance had withered to dull fatigue. Seconds seemed to trail by so gradually, letting time slip away so freely. He scrutinized his nails, caressing the pink nail polish that smoothly painted his nails. Now I'm hungry... He got up and slowly headed downstairs in a quest for a small snack.

"...hanging out with him so much?"

"Because he's my best friend, dad."

"Why? You have tons of other friends who are much better than him. I mean, he wears nail polish," the man bitterly chuckled, causing Jonah to grit his teeth and clench his fists. Cyrus' face started heating up in embarrassmet, biting his lips, trying to hold back his tears.

"There's nothing wrong with him wearing nail polish! He likes it and it makes him happy. So, if it makes him happy, don't you think he would wear it?"

"Boys don't wear nail polish, Jonah."

"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that nail polish never came with a set of rules that said only girls could wear it. And, it doesn't matter if he wears nail polish or not. What matters is that he's the kindest, smartest, and most amazing guy I could ever have the honor of calling my friend. Now, please, just let me go and finish my project." He turned his back on his dad and took one step before his father spoke again.

"And he's gay!"

Cyrus almost fainted at that moment. His face was on fire and he felt as if he couldn't breathe.

With a deep breath, Jonah asked, "Why does that matter to you?! Why does it matter who he likes?!"

"Why do you care about him so much?!"

"It's nothing, dad!"

"Again, why do you care about him so much?!"

"I-I love him, okay?! I love him."

He couldn't breathe. He was hyperventilating, his breath quickening every second. His heart had bursted into a wildfire, spreading throughout his body and making him explode.

Jonah Beck is in love with me.

And then he fell.

"Ow!"

"Cyrus?!"

Jonah immediately rushed over to Cyrus, kneeling down next to him and embracing him quickly. His father released a low growl but Jonah didn't care. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay."

"...You...love...me?"

He frowned in anxiety, gnawing on his lips nervously. He was tinged pink and his ears were stained with roses. He sighed, "...Yeah. I do. I really do." A tear cascaded from Cyrus' eye, gliding down his cheek and landing delicately on their intertwined hands.

"I l-love you, too, Jonah."

The door slammed behind them, and Cyrus jumped in fear. The other boy hushed him, holding up his chin and leading his gaze into the galaxies of the other's doe eyes. A quaint crescent aligned on the boy's lips, strawberry cages erupting with Jonah's favorite lullaby. He robbed a kiss from Cyrus, drowning in his vanilla scent and in the sea of his beauty.

It wouldn't matter what anyone else said.

They were in love.

And they weren't afraid to show it.


	25. Beautiful

_B: Beautiful_

 _—pleases the senses or mind aesthetically._

...

They had been wandering through the blurry vicinity of the art museum, every section veiled with palettes of color. The whole area was buzzing with whispered conversation and Jonah was bored out of his mind. Andi had invited him, Cyrus, and Buffy to explore the gallery that had recently opened which seemingly displayed more 'classic', older pieces, to which they all said yes to. Buffy had said yes, but promoted a challenge to see who could surmise what each painting was about. Cyrus wanted to go out of pure interest. And Jonah tagged along because of Cyrus.

Andi and Buffy eagerly skipped to each section, scrutinizing each piece of art, while Jonah went off with Cyrus elsewhere. He had trailed behind the outré and currently awkward boy in silence. The aforementioned boy had been looking at something Jonah couldn't even begin to describe. He was rather indifferent about this kind of stuff and was stultified by the awkward silence that penetrated the air. He was starting to regret coming. Why did I even come? Oh, that's right. It's because I'm helplessly in love with this dork. He stared at Cyrus, debating whether to die of boredom or start a conversation and interrupt him. He shrugged into conversation, "Cy, whatcha looking at?"

"A painting by Pablo Picasso entitled The Pomegranate." Jonah was sure he did not see any fruits hidden in the portrait. He also didn't comprehend why artists had to be so vague in their works. What information was he supposed to grasp from all this? Was there an entirely dichotmous meaning behind all this? How was he supposed to take a mess of lines and circles and interpret it to an apparently deep context?

He had somehow obtained a slight headache from analyzing one mere painting. He decided to take his mind off of the complex things and started ogling at Cyrus. Jonah watched as his boyfriend narrowed his eyes toward a canvas illustrated with so much color. He was quite adorable—his fixed gaze on the artwork; his nose that scrunched just a little; a smirk that threatened to lift one side of his lips—and Jonah was completely enamored of him. A giggle dared to escape his lips as he watched the boy in awe.

Cyrus looked back to see Jonah staring fervently into his swirling pools of chocolate. His cheeks dissolved into seas of crimson and the tip of his ears were painted with red. His usual display of anxiety had poured all throughout him and his stomach was in knots. He's never seen Jonah look at him with those stars that bubbled amidst the green landscape of his eyes and it's making his knees buckle. He loved and hated the affect that the frisbee player had on him, easily messing with his mind with just a smile, and those dimples were just too adorable.

"Will you stop staring at me and enjoy the artwork?"

"I am," Jonah said, still gazing at Cyrus.


	26. Always

_A: Always_

 _—at all times; on all occasions._

...

They bestowed their gaze to the far off horizon, the flaring hues of the sun melting into the sky like a divine painting. The landscape above them had erupted with a palette of pinks, blues, and purples—too many colors for them to enumerate. Their skin was kissed with a pink incandescence as they playfully danced through the field of grass. With their fingers intertwined, they had sauntered over to a quaint area in the park.

Today was Jonah and Cyrus' tenth anniversary as boyfriends and Jonah insisted he'd plan their whole day together. So, what better to do than venture back to the place where it all started? Where he and Cyrus first met.

He needed everything to be perfect.

As they approached the tree nearby, Cyrus had noticed that the ground had been decorated with a beautiful array of flowers—namely pastel pink peonies, his favorite kind—and there were fairy string lights that adorned the branches of the substantial tree behind them. He was in awe with the landscape that had been illustrated before him and a smile was etched on his face. There was something about the way he smiled; the way butterflies seemed to escape from the pit of his stomach and the way the sun had somehow toppled down from the sky and made a home right there in his heart. He had the kind of smile that made you feel happy to be alive and just that little bit more human, and Jonah was victim to it.

He spun on his heels, turning to Jonah with this pure euphoria that painted his face. He had been too enamored of the sight that he didn't notice his boyfriend take out his acoustic guitar. Jonah looked apprehensive about something, his posture stiffening as Cyrus stared at him. He hadn't been this tense around the admittedly gauche boy for a while, feeling petrified to go any further. He suddenly took a breath before beginning to strum a melody.

"I'm standing on the edge," he serenaded softly, his voice cracking just a bit, but nonetheless angelic to Cyrus as his eyes were glimmering with this elation. At that, Jonah had been painted with rose petals, blushing with embarrassment. He couldn't take his gaze off of Cyrus. "And everything I know, oh, oh, has blown away..."

"Life is upside down, but any way it go, oh, ohs, we'll work it out," he felt more confident as he hummed, swaying to the rhythm, lost in the beauty of right now. Tears had sought for surface to paint, creeping down his face and flowing down his neck, allowing it to dance there for a while. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "Here we go..."

His smile shined like the stars in the sky in that moment, with no bright city lights to dim them, "I'm ready for tomorrow; tomorrow starts today," he slowly walked towards Cyrus, his grin broadening with each step. It took a lifetime to write this song, and it'll take a lifetime and much, much more to even begin to say what he's always wanted to, "there ain't no map to follow, but I'm with you all the way." He started removing the guitar strap, and ceased the rhythm he's been strumming for so long.

"I'm ready for tomorrow; tomorrow starts today," he danced into another stride before setting down on one knee. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, revealing a small velvet box that rested in the palm of his hands. And he genuinely laughed through his tears as Cyrus veiled his lips with both hands, his chocolate orbs trickling with waterfalls. He continued humming, his doe eyes brim with more tears, "there ain't no map to follow, but I'm with you all the way..." He delicately opened the case, showing a masculine brushed silver engagement ring with diagonal accent diamonds.

"All the way."

Jonah had searched endlessly into Cyrus' eyes, deciphering what he was possibly feeling. "Cyrus, I-I'm so, wow," he stuttered because the man in front of him was so dreadfully beautiful and he didn't know what to say, "I can't limit your beauty to words, nor every single experience you've given me. For all the years before I met you, I was only living; and for the moments after, I was alive. I was content enough to be my imperfect and flawed self around you. You made me feel like I was worth something when I was always doubting myself. You made me feel safe. You were, are, and always will be my home. So, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"

Cyrus was sobbing with joy, and he'd never thought this ever happen.

He was being proposed to by Jonah Beck. His best friend. His love. His home. His world.

"Yes! Of course I'll marry you." He was enveloped in Jonah's embrace, pulled flush against him, their lips meeting as if it was their last, Cyrus' soft, pink ones brushing with Jonah's rough, wild ones. He let his arms drape around Jonah's neck, combing his fingers through his tousled hair. Warmth blossomed within Cyrus, erupting with happiness he always seemed to achieve with Jonah.

"I love you, Mr. Cyrus Goodman Beck," Jonah whispered through each kiss, bursting with giggles that found its way to his lips. They weren't perfect. They didn't need to be.

They were a beautiful, imperfect masterpiece and that was more than enough.

"I love you, too."

"Always?"

Cyrus nodded.

" _Always_."


End file.
